Prelude to Disaster
by Unearthed
Summary: Unsettling happenings are happening all over the globe and the game of who-done-its begins with fingers pointing to vampires. The elite Hellsing Organization is called in to Bon Temps, Louisiana in search for the vampire they suspect is behind the gruesome murders. However, the Sheriff of Area Five is quick to call Hellsing out for their intrusion. See inside for full summery.
1. Prelude

_Prelude to Disaster_

_**A brief disclaimer, from yours truly: I, Unearthed, do not own any form of rights to TrueBlood, Torchwood or Hellsing. I respect the talents that have gone into creating the books and series, etc. Those characters respectfully belong to the producers. I am merely borrowing them and adding them to the mix of my own characters for fun and entertainment purposes only. **  
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_**Full summery: Unsettling happenings are happening all over the globe and the game of who-done-its begins with fingers pointing to vampires. The elite Hellsing Organization is called in to Bon Temps, Louisiana in search for the vampire they suspect is behind the gruesome murders. However, the Sheriff of Area Five is quick to call Hellsing out for their intrusion. It is up to Eric Northman and his progeny, Pam, to help aid the Hellsing Organization in some unsettling discoveries in his homeland. Extra help is needed and not before long, the fiend shows itself with the help of the Torchwood team and a few misfits they find along the way.  
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_**Rating warning: M+ for language, violence and romance.  
**_

* * *

There was hardly a sound in the dense tree lined swamp. Not even the insects buzzed, nor did the frogs croak their eerie, high-pitched song. There was nothing, but the sounds of frantic footsteps as a figure ran blindly through the mucky swampland.

The squelch of mud hardly reached his ears as he ran from the beast that followed. Within an instant, a mere blink of an eye, everything ended. The nameless man screamed, no shrieked, a sound so primeval that it sent even the most stubborn of creatures into hiding.

And as quickly as the shriek came, it was silenced. It wasn't just any silence. It was the silence after an explosion. That deafening stillness that caused ears to ring that certain high-pitched buzz, a constant drone that could send even the most sane men hurtling towards insanity. Not even the great horned owl that sat perched high above the scene dared to lift its voice. It simply sat and watched, blink its great, golden orbs as it watched.

The stagnant waters of the bayou mixed with the freshly spilt blood. It stained the murky depths a dark crimson that expanded like a cloud. Only the fine tendrils of blood escaped the growing cloud of red.

Nothing came to investigate. Not even the ornery gators came rushing towards the source of the sweet, sweet blood.

From its Spanish moss covered limb high above, the owl finally screeched before taking flight.

It was the thirteenth gruesome murder in Louisiana within the past three months. All the bodies found were so horribly maimed that none of them were identifiable. Coroners were stumped. Forensics were lead in circles. None could even take a DNA sample. Each time a body was found, a person had gone missing just a handful of days before hand. It was too short of a time to be considered a freak accident with nature. Too long of a time to be considered a homicide.

All fingers were pointed at vampires.

The Hellsing Organization was called in to investigate.

* * *

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" the vampire sneered as his eyes narrowed. He quickly flicked his gaze from the figure's head to toe. He loomed over the cloaked figure and couldn't help but grin. "Just a fuckin' small fry, aren't ya? You ain't so tough!"

"Oh, trust me. I am a lot bigger than I appear to be," said the figure.

The vampire laughed, a full, hearty and cruel sound. "You fuckin' nuts? Who the fuck are you?"

"You killed all those people and not even because you were thirsty. All those innocent lives. You're nothing but scum. A true disgrace to vampires. What was your true incentive? Were you trying to become all powerful? A god? Ha! I think not."

"And what if I did? Who the Hell are you to come 'ere and bitch to me?" the vampire demanded. He was sure he could see a flash of pearly white teeth under the blackness supplied from the cowl.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Fuck you!" The vampire spat in the cloaked figure's face. Driblets of bloody saliva dripped down the figures face and clung to the cowl.

"Enrique Vasquez. Deceased, January 14, 2009. Cause of death, unknown. Body was never found…." There was a pause and Vasquez was sure that the grin grew wider. "Until now."

Vasquez stumbled back. "What the fuck? Who are you?"

It was the cloaked figure who laughed this time. "You really are stupid."

"_Tell me who you are!"_

"The Hellsing Organization." There was yet another pause as the figure began to laugh again as Vasquez began to panic. "In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation." A black gloved hand rose. Gripped in slim fingers was a fierce looking handgun made of near black metal. The trigger was pulled without hesitation and the bullet sped from the barrel and pierced Enrique Vasquez's skull. Right between the eyes. The head immediately exploded, showering the cloaked figure with bits of skull and brain matter.

"Amen."


	2. Knock, Knock Who's There? Pain

_Chapter One, Knock, Knock. Who's There? Pain._

"_The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"-H.P. Lovecraft_

* * *

It was hot. Far hotter than it had been in previous years—and so early in the season too. Once the storms had died down from the last hurricane that slammed Louisiana, the temperatures soared to new record highs. The sun shone brightly, only adding to the insufferable heat. Resident birds hid in the cool, sanctuary of the canopy. They didn't bother wasting their energy in singing.

The only noises were the buzzing drone of cicadas and locusts, and the rumbling air conditioning units as they struggled to pump cool air into houses and businesses. Their attempts were in vain. The sun burned down hotly and the cold air rushing through the vents did little to counter the scorching assault.

The big story in Bon Temps the following morning was the discovery of the fifteenth murder victim. All of Merlotte's was buzzing with the grotesquely detailed newspaper article. What really got them in a tizzy was the fact that a stranger was spotted leaving the crime scene—for the second time. She had been spotted at the last two murder sites. Ironically, all of the photographs of her were obscured by…something. None of them were able to focus in on her—if it even was a her.

There was a collective sigh of relief as all of Merlotte's Bar and Grill watched the television screen as reporters began covering the story in full and that the killer was found.

Enrique Vasquez. A rogue vampire.

Seeing that justice had been severed to a dangerous vampire, the mood brightened. All except for one. Sookie Stackhouse. Something didn't bode well for her. She could sense it deep within her bones.

"C'mon, Sook," Tara said and nudged her friend. Sookie tried to smile in return, but Tara's efforts did little to comfort her.

"I can't help it. Something just doesn't feel right."

Tara gave a roll of her deep, brown eyes. "Another one of your ooky-spooky feelings I take it?"

Sookie glanced flatly to Tara. She opened her mouth to retort before her attention was immediately drawn away from her friend as the lights flickered and went out. The numerous fans that dotted Merlotte's scenery all slowed to a collective stop.

The power had gone out. Again.

Only this time, it was undoubtedly because of the heat. A brownout, most likely.

Or so they assumed.

"Damn it, Sam! The fuse blew again!" Tara snapped and left her position behind the bar to find the owner of Merlotte's. She grumbled unpleasantries under her breath before she stopped dead in her tracks as the front door swung open with a bang. The entire restaurant nearly jumped out of their skins. She was forced to squint against the blaring sunshine as she searched for a figure—a shape of someone, anyone that could have kicked open the door.

None came.

"Ch…man…. Sam! Fix the damned door!"

All of Merlotte's went silent as a figure stepped in, just as Tara finished yelling out to Sam. Sookie blinked against the light and was barely able to figure out what the figure was carrying.

A lace parasol.

"What the hell is this?" snapped Tara. Already the heat from the outside was infiltrating the restaurant.

A woman strode through Merlotte's as if she were a phantasm, closing her parasol with dainty, black gloved hands. Her skin was whiter than the finest of porcelain, lips the richest crimson Sookie had ever seen. Not even Pam owned a shade quite like this woman's. She was captivated by the woman and her cold, blue-green eyes that seemed to glare at the world from behind a veil of silken, ebony hair.

Normally a few snickers would arise from the crowd at the peculiar dress of the woman. No one around those parts would even dream to wear a black corset, tulle skirt that was cut quite short in front and layered longer in back. The only ones Sookie could think of were those who went to Fangtasia, the nightclub owned by the notorious Eric Northman, vampire Sheriff of Area Five.

But…there was something about this woman in black that struck Sookie as odd. Though her clothing screamed Fangtasia, she knew the woman was not one to go there. For one thing, the blackness of her clothing seemed to be alive. It seethed and writhed against her ivory skin and the blonde knew that it must just be a trick of the light. She couldn't deny that it was mesmerizing. Another reason? She seemed above it all, like she was too good for a cheap gothic thrill.

The black haired woman gracefully glided through the restaurant as if she weren't wearing the meanest platform-ballerina slippers imaginable. The heel alone was a good five inches, but she moved as languidly as if she were barefoot. She took a seat, effortlessly, in a booth near the back to the restaurant. She casually brushed her bangs from her face with gloved fingers and arranged her parasol to be leaning against the windowsill next to her.

It took Sookie a few moments to collect herself before she hurried over to the woman's booth. "Hey there! Hot isn't it? Well, welcome to Merlotte's! Sorry, the power just went out. Can you really blame it? In all this heat?" She laughed nervously. "So what kind of True Blood can I get you?"

The question was out of her mouth before she even realized she asked it. She felt dread seep into her bones as the woman, who had blatantly ignored her every word, finally turned her viciously cold eyes her way.

"It is the middle of the day. If I were a vampire, I would not be out at this time," she replied in a chillingly cool and exotically accented voice. Her accent sounded familiar to Sookie. It was a cross between British and one that she couldn't put a finger on. She knew she had heard it before—or something similar at least. Her thoughts shifted immediately to Eric and Pam.

"Besides," the woman continued, interrupting Sookie's musing, "would a vampire venture out on a day like today? I do not think so."

"Erm…right. So…what else could I get you?"

"A glass of carmenere. The finest you have. That will be all."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have that. Closest we've got is a cabernet sauvignon."

"Very well then." She gave a wave of her hand to dismiss the waitress. She didn't have the patience to even _begin_ to describe the differences between the two red wines. Instead, she opened her small clutch and pulled out a silver cigarette case. She opened it and pulled out a cigarette and matching lighter. She lit the tobacco with a fluid motion and inhaled deeply. "Don't forget the ashtray, sweetie."

Sookie bristled and bit back an insult. She turned sharply and stormed off to get the woman a glass of wine. She didn't comment about her smoking. She would let Sam handle that. Better yet, she would let Tara handle it. She had been itching to pick a fight with someone—and even if the woman had five-inch platforms on, Tara still had a few inches on her.

"What was that all about?" Tara asked as Sookie placed the order for a glass of wine.

"I honestly don't know," replied the waitress. "I mean, she's just…weird."

"Uh-huh…. Tell me about it." She rummaged around under the bar before finding the bottle of cabernet and snatched the cork screw. "Who in their right mind would go out in this kinda weather dressed like _that?_ I mean, seriously, Sook. She looks like she just walked out of some fetish photo shoot."

"Well…maybe she has? Or maybe they're making a movie?"

"Right, Sook. If they were, don't you think this whole damned place would be buzzing about it? Besides, who the hell wants to shoot a movie here?"

"A creepy fetish movie director?" offered Sookie. Both the women laughed softly at the absurd idea, that truly didn't seem so absurd with all of the strange things that happened in their not-so-sleepy town.

"Say…Tara…. Want to clue her in on there's no smoking in here?"

Tara gave Sookie a meaningful glance. "And mess around with psycho-bondage girl? I don't think so. It's not like it's bothering anyone. They've already up and moved to a farther table. She owns the entire back of the restaurant!"

Sookie frowned slightly as she glanced over her shoulder towards the bitter woman in black. Without the blessing of the fans, the smoke just hung in the air around her.

"I suppose you're right."

"You can mess around with her however much you'd like, Sook. I've got your back, you know I do. I'm just not ready to jump into my casket yet."

Sookie reluctantly nodded and picked up the glass of wine Tara had poured. "Thanks a lot, Tara," she grumbled before making her way over to the table.

"Here's your wine, ma'am. I hope you don't mind that it's—" she cut off as the woman flicked up a twenty dollar bill between her first two fingers of her right hand.

"Keep the change, dearie."

Sookie was at a loss for words. She hesitantly took the money as she set the glass down before her. "Okay…. Thank you."

She took a step back, but didn't leave altogether. Her brows creased slightly as she watched the woman take a small sip and cringed.

"Is there something else you need to say?" asked the woman as she set the glass down.

"What? No—Sorry."

"Then you may go."

Sookie huffed slightly before she turned and walked back to the bar.

Sam dried his hands on an old threadbare, but freshly laundered, dish rag as he entered his bar. It had only taken him about ten or fifteen minutes to get the generator going, but it was long enough to miss the woman's grand and dramatic entrance. Still, the instant he entered the bar, the tense atmosphere put him on alert. The strange foreign yet familiar scent of the newcomer did nothing to calm his nerves. None of those thoughts seemed to affect his expression and thankfully, did not alert Sookie to warrant her scrying of his thoughts. He was able to freely slip behind the bar without anyone seeming to notice him, all except for Tara. He kept an eye on the stranger, but made no move to interfere.

"Where the hell were you, Sam?" asked Tara as she snapped her fierce gaze to the shifter. "Anyway, you missed it."

Sam narrowed his eyes slightly as Tara didn't even give him time to interject before she continued speaking. "Yeah, I guess I did miss it." He gestured towards the woman.

"Gives me the fucking spooks."

"Can't say that I blame you. She's certainly…different."

Tara barked a laugh. "Yeah…. Different…."

Their conversation dwindled as they couldn't find anything more to talk about. The afternoon turned to night, far more slowly than any of them had wanted it to. A few more people came, ate and left during that time, and not one of them were willing to sit anywhere near the woman. She remained rooted to her seat the entire day. She occasionally ordered another glass of wine and she did minimal talking.

It set everyone's nerves on alert.

No one liked her.

* * *

Tara's eyes narrowed as she leaned against the bar, arms folded over her chest. A scowl marred her strong, but pretty face. "Sam, why don't you get a damned sign saying, 'No freak shows allowed' or something? I'm sick of having all these weirdos popping in!" she snarled.

"A customer is a customer. She isn't doing any harm," Sam decided. "Besides, no one in Bon Temps would be allowed in if I did that," he then added in a teasing tone.

Tara snorted as she glared at the newcomer in her little gothic dress.

"No one's forcing you to work here, Tara. And anyway, she can't be a vampire—she walked in at noon!" Sookie glanced over to her easily annoyed friend.

"That may be, but there are all sorts of other psychos around!" Tara snapped in retort.

Sookie gave a sigh and bit the inside of her cheek as she joined Tara and Sam in watching the stranger. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out and scrying to find a trail of the woman's thoughts. Her skin prickled in an all too familiar sensation as she found nothing but blissful silence, up until a chilling voice echoed through her mind.

_This is a complete and utter waste of my time. There isn't anything here but a group of redneck hillbillies. Damn Hellsing for sending me here._

Her eyes snapped open. "What's Hellsing?" Sookie blurted out. She jumped as the woman from the book was suddenly mere inches away from her. Her eyes went wide—there was no way a human would have been able to move that quickly. She had appeared in a blink of an eye—far faster than anyone she had ever encountered—all except….

No…. She had ruled out vampire. The woman had strolled into the restaurant in broad daylight!

"What have you heard, little human girl?" the woman hissed as she grabbed Sookie by the front of her shirt. Even with the aid of her shoes, the woman was still considerably shorter than the waitress.

Sam was on his feet the instant when the woman raised her voice. It hadn't registered that she had crossed the relatively large space in a matter of a split second. Despite what he had told Tara, the woman felt dangerous.

"What's Hellsing," Sookie demanded again. Her hands gripped the black gloved ones that had clamped down on her shirt like a vise. She tried to read the woman's thoughts, but she found nothing but the calming, if not cold, silence.

"It is far beyond a mere mortal's capability to understand!"

"Sookie, I don't think you should be eavesdropping when you can avoid it," Sam muttered to the waitress as he tried to break Sookie away from the short woman.

"Stay out of this, mongrel!" the woman snarled and shoved Sam out of the way as effortlessly as if he were a ragdoll. Her vivid teal eyes narrowed dangerously as she cornered the waitress against the stone wall.

"Answer my question!" Sookie nearly shouted. Her senses had been kicked into overdrive. The woman was far more than she appeared.

"As I said before, you wouldn't understand," seethed the smaller woman. A slim hand reached behind her and withdrew a nasty looking handgun from God only knew where. She grinned, a wide, cruel expression. Her teeth were stark white against her carmine lips. She aimed directly between Sookie's eyes. "You should learn to keep that sharp tongue of yours under control. You can do that in your next life."

Sam recovered from being tossed against the bar. He had barely managed to catch himself before he destroyed the bar stools. He was back at Sookie's side within an instant as the woman drew a gun. He snatched at her wrist and pointed the barrel towards the ceiling. "Get out of my bar!" he demanded. His free hand reached out and shoved Sookie towards safety.

The woman rolled her teal eyes. "Do you honestly think you can simply order me around?" she hissed and turned to face the man. Even though he towered over her, the little woman was far from ready to back down. –It made Sam tense even more.

"This. Is none. Of Your. Business," she whispered as she locked eyes with the owner.

It never hurt to use a little bit of glamour to get what she wanted, especially in the presence of mere mortals. For all the woman knew, or cared, she was still within the bounds the Lady Hellsing ordered her to remain in.

Sookie took a brief moment to let relief flood her senses. She allowed herself a fraction of a second to breathe a sigh of relief as the gun was no longer aimed at her. However, that relief only lasted a minimal split second before her friend was held captivated by the woman's stare.

Sam's muscles tensed as he fought the woman's command, but his eyes were glassy and compliant within seconds. Slowly the knots in his muscles relaxed. "It's…none of my business," he repeated dumbly.

"Sam! Sam snap out of it! She's a vampire!" Sookie cried as she realized what the woman was doing. She didn't regret her sudden outcry, even if it had caught the vampire's attention. She cursed and tried to flee.

The vampire rounded on the waitress, but not without shoving Sam Merlotte far away from her and her new prey, Sookie.

He snarled as blinding pain seared across his back as he landed upon the bar. The bottles of beer and mixed cocktails shattered and cut deep into his spine, the spilled alcohol burning into the cuts and gashes.

"Oh, you spoiled my fun!" She snatched Sookie's shirt once again and thrust her painfully hard into the wall. "Now you all must die," she chided and pulled back the hammer of her weapon.

Panic rose in Sookie's chest. She didn't know where she could run. She couldn't escape because surely this woman would be there to stop her. Before her mind ran out of options, she immediately screamed out for the vampire Bill.

"What? That's it?" she asked before chuckling. "What a waste." She fired once, narrowly missing the waitress. The bullet lodged itself into the stone wall, the shock waves causing the light fixtures on the ceiling to tremble and rattle.

Bill was out of his home the instant he heard Sookie's voice. He raced through the night. The sound of the gunshot set him running even faster. He slammed through the door of Merlotte's, his fangs bared. He was besides the woman in a heartbeat and grabbed her wrist in a vise-like grip. "Drop the gun. Now."

Irritation flickered across the woman's porcelain pale face as her sharp eyes snapped to the newly arrived vampire. "Do not meddle in the affairs of one such as me!" she snarled lowly, easily ignoring the painful grasp on her wrist. Her muscles strained as it took just about all her strength to keep the gun somewhat steady. It wavered in front of Sookie's nose.

Heat flared within her arm as her muscles screamed in protest. She allowed her arm to give way in order to properly deal with the newest annoyance. Her body twisted just slightly before she exhaled a shallow breath, her body disintegrating into a blood red mist and effortlessly slid between his fingers. Her body quickly materialized a few feet away from him, body poised and pissed.

Bill's eyes widened with shock. "Wh—What?" Not once had he ever seen anything like it.

Sookie collapsed to the floor as soon as she was released by the vampire. She scrambled to her feet, relieved that Bill had finally arrived. "Bill! Be careful! She's unlike any vampire I've ever seen! She walked in during daylight!" she shouted and quickly sprinted to make sure Sam was all right. The rest of the guests had fled as soon as the beginnings of a fight began. She knelt by his side, ignoring the abuse her knees took as the broken glass punctured her perfect flesh.

"My God…. Sam!"

The woman laughed. It was low like thunder and as smooth as silk. "Releasing Control Art Restriction to level two," the vampire breathed, her voice a dark, sweet whisper. Being Hellsing's pet had its perks, and with a father like hers….

The lights of Merlotte's flickered and went dim as the woman's allotted power began to rise until the small dining hall seemed to have disappeared.

"You really shouldn't have interfered."

Bill tensed, though he knew there was little to nothing he could do against this. Certainly there were stories about vampires with powers straight from the legends, but he had never believed it until now.

"I will not let you harm her," he said in an icy tone. Though he didn't know what exactly he was up against, he wasn't about to run away. He didn't wait around to see what was going to happen next. He charged her and grasped her shoulder. He hauled her up and flung her through the window she was near to. The glass would only slow down a vampire, but at least she would be outside and away from the others.

The woman's expression changed instantly to one of shock as she felt herself lifted and hurled towards the window. She braced for impact before suddenly realizing it didn't have to end that way. She shifted yet again before she burst through the glass.

"Sookie—you need to get out of here," Sam mumbled, his brain still numbed from the abuse his body had just taken. His gaze sharpened instantly and was on his feet within seconds. He pushed Sookie towards the back door, wanting to take advantage of the new vampire's confusion. "Go!"

They didn't have time to wait for the roiling cloud of mist to rematerialize and raise Hell.

Sookie fought against him. "No, Sam! I'm not going anywhere!"

Their time was up. The vampire had rematerialized. She looked ruffled and pissed as she crouched down upon the table. Her eyes were like daggers of ice as she glared at the vampire Bill.

"You dare throw a lady? I thought you Southerners had manners!" she hissed, her muddled accent now clear that it was a mix of British and what sounded like Slavic. She rose to her full height—a measly four foot and eleven inches, and glowered at the vampire.

"Sookie, damn it! Get out of here, _now!"_ Sam shouted.

"You are all very, very annoying," the vampire spat bitterly as she pulled a second gun from the black tulle of her skirt. She aimed directly at Bill. She didn't hesitate as she squeezed the trigger, the energy from the gun's recoil traveling up her arm and giving her a good, solid jolt.

"No, Sam! You go! I'm staying here—" Sookie began but jerked at the sound of the gun. Bill's name was caught in her throat as she couldn't react fast enough to shout out to him.

The bullet sped from the barrel of the gun before instantly bursting into flames halfway between the two vampires. The bullet melted and dripped into a puddle of glowing silver.

Sookie blinked back the blinding light as the bullet was stopped midflight and reduced to nothing but molten silver. "Go, get out of here!" she urged Sam. Finally, reluctantly, Sam agreed.

"_Morissa!"_

The woman snapped her attention towards the newest guest. She snarled. "This is none of your concern, Kalandryn! Stay back!"

"It is my concern. Your orders were not to attack civilians—even if one is a vampire. He is not our target."

The man addressed as Kalandryn strode into the diner, his warm, wine colored eyes never leaving the short woman until he was standing between her and the other vampire. He fixed the woman with a stern glare.

"My sincere apologies. Words will never amount to how sorry I am for this incident," began Kalandryn in a faux, apologetic tone. "I pray no one was injured?" A silent _much _hung in the air.

"Someone _was _injured, but I really don't think you owe him the apology," Bill replied to the newcomer. Though this new man was nonchalant in dismissing the previous tensions, Bill didn't relax in the slightest. He didn't trust either of these people.

Kalandryn looked to Bill with an arched eyebrow. He remained silent, however.

"Target," Bill pressed. "Who are you after?"

* * *

_**Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment/review! If you enjoy, please let me know so I may upload more!**_

_**Your comments are greatly welcomed!  
**_

_**Sincerely,  
**_

_**Unearthed  
**_


	3. The Devil Came Down to Louisiana

_Chapter two, The Devil Came Down to Louisiana_

"_And I see storms on the horizon" –The Cruxshadows from the song, __**Citadel**_

* * *

"I think you'll get a kick out of this," said Pam as she tossed a newspaper article onto Eric's desk. What she had read in the article was frustrating. The media was all for blood and gore—especially when it had a vampire involved. And this particular article, in fact did. "The media is all over the series of murders."

It was an understatement. The media was going _crazy_ over the murder cases. They were already spouting claims that the murderer was found. Someone killed a vampire. What was most troubling was the realization of one thing; Hellsing had sent one of their dogs to discard a vampire that had nothing to do with the murders.

"Even more blood in Bon Temps."

Eric casually snatched up the paper that Pam had thrown down upon his desk without bothering to acknowledge the tiny seamstress who was in the process of pinning the clothes she would alter for him.

His entire being exuded nonchalance, but anger danced in Eric's ice blue eyes.

"Hellsing in Louisiana?" he remarked in an aloof tone as he waved the petite tailor away.

Though annoyance briefly twisted her features, she didn't ignore the command. She was clearly dismissed.

"I will admit, I did not expect an ignorant, archaic, vigilante organization to have such…audacity. Do you know who their agent is?"

Pam eyed the seamstress as she walked away before she reluctantly dragged her gaze away. She gave Eric her full attention. Her arms crossed over her chest and stuck out a hip. "That's what the reports are saying. A friend of this Vasquez that was murdered found the warrant for his death. I never realized Hellsing began handing out warrants," Pam replied as she gazed at her pink nails.

"As far as the agent goes, there's been no such luck. A rare few that have lived long enough to see this agent describe her as short and pale. Obviously a female." She paused and flicked her gaze back to Eric. "Doesn't Hellsing's jurisdiction end in Britain? I hadn't thought they could influence outside of country."

When the petite vampire was certain she was too far to overhear Eric and Pam's conversation, she knelt down to pack away her supplies. An unnecessary sigh escaped her as she snapped the antique wooden case closed. Once, she never would have kept her head down and mouth shut, but that was long ago. If she wanted to remain off Hellsing radar, she had to be utterly unremarkable.

Reason didn't stop the curiosity from driving her mad, unfortunately. The seamstress carefully fathered up her belongings and slipped out the back door like the good little girl she had to be.

**T**he sheriff fixed a glare on the news article, as if it were all the paper's fault, before he dropped it onto the marble desk.

"They don't. Find me that assassin," he demanded. "After all, she is under my jurisdiction now."

Pam couldn't help but let out an irritated sigh as she shifted her weight to her other leg. "And where do you suppose I begin? The last time you had me out on a search, you cost me a pair of pumps."

She stopped herself before she could say, "Find her yourself." She wasn't sure how she managed to, but the good news was she did. Eric was in no mood for such snide remarks.

Eric cast his gaze around the room before he remembered he had dismissed the smaller vampire. "That seamstress has a history with Integra Hellsing and her organization. Find her, and bring her to Miss Stackhouse if she seems disinclined to tell you what she knows." Call it a premonition, but Eric somehow doubted that Pam would dislike this request quite as much as she disliked her trot through the bayou mud.

"_Eric, you are the Sheriff here, not I. Shouldn't you be doing this? After all, she _is _your seamstress," _Pam replied in Eric's native tongue. She hardly looked pleased to do this. The last thing she wanted to do was talk with Sookie Stackhouse—and wrestling with Eric's little vampiric seamstress sounded even less fun.

"_I need you to do this,"_ replied Eric in a tone that made it dreadfully clear that his request was an order.

"I have to make a call," he suddenly added flippantly. He turned to head back to his office. Though he teased his progeny, the Sheriff wouldn't have trusted anyone else with something so important.

Eric's expression was serious again once he settled himself behind his desk. He leaned back in his chair as he waited for Hellsing to accept his video conference.

Pam stared flatly at Eric for a few moments before she gave a frustrated sigh. She vanished from Fangtasia.

* * *

Isabella parked her bike and practically ran to the door of her shabby little apartment. She had the key in the lock within seconds and ducked inside as if the Devil, himself, was after her.

Close enough. It was Hellsing after all.

There weren't many people that Isabella feared. Except Hellsing. She preferred the Devil she didn't know.

She quickly darted around her cramped apartment, tossing only a few select items into a bag. She paused momentarily to wipe her brow with a slim wrist.

The Devil had reared its ugly head, wearing the mask of Hellsing. There was no way that Isabella was going to wait around and see the destruction that was bound to follow.

Isabella gave a startled yelp as the door of her tiny apartment was kicked in. She whirled around, fearing facing the worst. She was vaguely relieved as she saw a none-too-pleased Pam standing there in the entranceway.

"You know, if you're going to be running from someone, you might want to do a better job in making sure you're not found," Pam said bitterly. Her hands rest at her hips, an elegantly formed eyebrow raised.

"Eric wants to see you. Now."

* * *

Sir Hellsing's office was dark save for the glow of the open laptop on the spacious, dark wooden desk. A figure sat behind the desk, booted feet resting dangerously close to the expensive device. The ringing of the video conference program was just about unbearable.

Tala growled and nearly bit through the cigar she was savoring in her attempt to cancel the call. Her eyebrow ticked in annoyance as her fingers flew across the keyboard to find the user that dared call her. Luckily enough, she knew a bit about hacking into computer systems.

A bonus for Hellsing. –If she didn't blow up the computer first.

**VAMPKILLER01 writes:** Who are you?

A wicked grin split Tala's face as she hit the ENTER button on the keyboard. She leaned back again as she waited for a response. She watched the outlined red type-symbol blink against the now blackened screen.

Eric's lips twitched into a frown as he scanned the screen before him. This didn't match any of the descriptions he had of the stern, proper Sir Hellsing.

He quickly typed in a screen name and entered the chat, regardless.

**Valr* writes: **I am someone who would like very much to speak to the lady of the house.

Tala grinned even wider and quickly made sure no one else was around. Integra was…elsewhere, and Tala could truly care less about the woman's location.

"Oh, but at the moment, I _am _the lady of the house," she mused and drummed her fingers on the keyboard, thinking.

**VAMPKILLER01 writes:** This is she. Now, who are you?

**VAMPKILLER01 writes:**Your game is not amusing.

**Valr writes:** This is no game. I am deadly serious, I assure you.

**Valr writes:** I am the Sheriff of Area Five in Louisiana. Your loose cannon is murdering on the payroll.

**VAMPKILLER01 writes:** That is their job. What did you expect? A tea party with crumpets?

Tala couldn't help but snicker at her wit. The slam of the office door startled her, causing the carefully balanced laptop on her lap to be knocked over.

"Sir Hellsing!" she chocked as she swallowed the cigar. Her eyes welled up with tears as the red embers burned her tongue and throat. She quickly righted the computer.

"What is it you are doing in my office?" Integra Hellsing demanded. Her cold, ice blue eyes seemed even colder than usual.

Tala grinned like the cat who ate the canary, and proceeded to turn the computer around to show her little chat with the Sheriff.

Integra's eyebrow raised skeptically. "Vampkiller01?"

"Hey, it was the only thing I could think of."

"End the conversation as quickly as possible and continue researching the reports from the area. I would have thought you'd use your own quarters this time."

The disappointment in Integra's voice was brutally, painfully clear.

"Basement. No wifi."

Integra said nothing to the affects of what the dark skinned woman just said. She merely watched with narrowed eyes. Over the years of working with her, she had grown to like the woman. It was refreshing to have her back for once. Though it pained her to deport Tala again so quickly after having her arrive on such short notice.

"Once you have finished your research, you're going down to Louisiana. If I recall correctly, you know the area fairly well."

"New Orleans, really, but yeah," Tala clarified.

Integra paused slightly, miffed that she was interrupted. "I do not trust your outlandish daughter with something like this."

The sound of a bullet ricocheting caught Integra's attention. She didn't appear worried. It was cartoonish in nature, the sound.

"New message," said Tala as she turned the computer back around.

**Valr writes: **I was mistaken in assuming you might be professionals. You truly do not deserve your reputation. Next time, it would be prudent to be certain you are killing the murderer rather than the first vampire to cross your path.

Another cartoon bullet ricochet.

**Valr writes:** Please have Sir Hellsing contact Eric Northman if she would like to settle this. I understand that England is still persecuting vampires, but we won't tolerate your interference here.

"Tala," began Sir Integra Hellsing, slowly. "Will you ever grow up?"

"That is a negative, Mum," replied the native, using the British slang term for ma'am.

Integra did all she could to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

**VAMPKILLER01 writes: **KK TTYL BAI

**VAMPKILLER01 writes: **loser :[

Tala smirked and closed the laptop before getting up from Integra's desk. "Research is done. There wasn't any more than what we already have. So, Miss Hellsing. What is it you really called me here for? –Oh, and give Eric Northman a call."

Integra lightly shook her head, a shadow of a smirk breaking the cold expression to her face. "Mr. Northman was the reason I called you in. You are one of the few I can trust in serving as my eyes and ears overseas. You are not frail like humans are. You know how to control vampires and your…pyromaniac friend. I need you in Louisiana. You need to work out some form of agreement with the Sheriff in catching this monster. Do you understand?"

"Ah, so Valr was Eric Northman…." Tala grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Fine. Consider it done. Give him a call and let them know I'm on my way."

"I believe he already knows there will be more of us coming."

* * *

"_They _haven't found me. I wasn't hiding from you," Isabella muttered under her breath. If she were any less worried, she would have been annoyed that Pam did find her so easily, but now her pride wasn't important.

"You're wasting time, anyway. I can't tell you anything useful except that anyone Hellsing sends won't be…discrete. Go walk around the town and you'll meet him." Her expression curled with distaste at the thought.

"Listen, girlie, you can either make this go smoothly and come back with me, or I'll have to force you," Pam replied in an irritated tone. She let out a heavy sigh as her patience began to wear thin.

However, her interest in this Hellsing was suddenly peaked. For as much as she wanted to ask more questions about it, it wasn't for her to do. That was up to Eric.

Isabella could dissolve into fog or mist, or even teleport if she had to, but she didn't fancy letting Pam know she was an undesirable breed of vampire. Whiole she might be able to evade Louisiana's vampire population with relative ease, she doubted she could avoid all the vampires in America.

"I'm not getting anywhere near Hellsing's bitches, but I'll talk to Mr. Northman," she agreed with great reluctance. She gathered up the few things she had packed and started towards the door.

* * *

Morissa's expression was murderous as she hopped down from the table and stood at Kalandryn's side. "Master will be displeased if you share such classified information," she sneered and tossed her head.

The silver haired man ignored the petite woman and instead, settled his gaze upon William Compton. "By now it probably is no surprise on who we are. You, being a creature of the night, will understand exactly who we are. We are the Hellsing Organization. We have been brought in to investigate a rogue vampire that we suspect has fled from England to here." He glanced to his 'partner.' "She tends to jump to conclusions."

Sookie gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Understatement!"

"Sookie, please," Bill said and held out a hand to cease any further protests. Not that the gesture worked well anyway. However, Sookie remained quiet, much to Bill's surprise.

Kalandryn turned his attention back to the waitress and the vampire that protected her. "Do pardon my lack of manners," he said smoothly and bowed deeply at the waist. "My name is Kalandryn, and my hot-headed companion is Miss Morissa Dracul."

"Dracul? Like Dracula-Dracul?" Sookie asked as she sized the short, fine boned woman.

Sam stood idly at the back of his bar. He didn't seem to know whether he wanted to kill Morissa or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

Lafayette, thankfully, summed up the situation perfectly from where he peered out from the kitchen. "I think it's a bit fucking late for manners, honey."

After a beat of silence, he couldn't help but ask Morissa, _"What the hell _ sort of vampire is you, anyway?"

Morissa, having torn her murderous gaze away from the waitress, turned to face the short order cook and smiled sweetly. Her fangs glistening in the amber lights in Merlotte's. "The kind only told in horror stories, _honey." _

"Not every vampire is created equally," explained Kalandryn, his voice bright though he appeared somewhat disturbed at being called 'honey.'

Sookie looked a bit confused. "So…. Are you like, Bride of Dracula or something?"

"Sookie, please," Bill urged.

She sighed and reluctantly moved off to the side. She fumbled around in her apron for her cell phone. She pulled it out and flipped it open before punching in Eric's number. She drummed her fingers against her thigh impatiently.

"Come on, Eric….. Pick up."

"I think short, pale and freaky needs to be on a leash," Lafayette muttered to himself as he ducked back into the window. He threw his apron down on the counter as he crossed the kitchen to leave. The excitement was over—for the most part—and even if Sam managed to get the place open again that night, he doubted if any customers would return.

Kalandryn's hand flashed out and gripped Morissa's arm as she moved to murder or maim the cook. He cast the petite woman a sharp look—something that seemed so very unlike him to begin with, and it silenced the vampire's protests. She backed down, face unreadable.

To Lafayette's departing form, Kal called out, "We try to! However she manages to escape!"

He smiled widely, his entire form becoming warmer and friendlier. His rather intimidating height and build hardly seemed to be a threat anymore. His face—though harsh looking with the scarlet tattoos upon his cheeks, softened.

He kind of reminded Sookie of a giant teddy bear—all except for his pointed incisors. While shorter than a vampire's, it was a clear signal that like his short, pale and freaky friend, he was inhuman. –That is to say if melting the bullet wasn't enough of a clue.

* * *

Isabella reluctantly stepped back into the parking lot of the seedy looking little nightclub and trudged towards the door. She looked like she was walking to the gallows, or, considering her size, a time out. In truth, this was the very thing she had been avoiding when she moved to the States.

Pam pushed ahead of the little seamstress and lead her into the back of Fangtasia. She barged into Eric's office without knocking.

"I've brought the little brat for you," she replied, uncaring if Isabella overheard. "You're lucky I found her this quickly."

Her eyebrow raised. "Your phone's ringing."

Eric snapped the laptop closed with annoyance, just as the phone started to ring. His pale eyes widened as he read the caller ID.

He would be his unlife that Sookie was standing in the eye of the tempest, again.

"What can I do for you, Miss Stackhouse?" he purred, his earlier frustration melting away. If he was right, he wouldn't need the useless little vampire after all.

"_Eric, I need your help," _Sookie began. Eric could sense the hesitation in her voice through the phone. _"I was attacked in Merlotte's—and—and—Hey! That's my phone!"_

Sookie's voice crackled and fizzed as the phone was roughly seized by an unknown assailant.

"_You must be Mr. Eric Northman, the Sheriff of Area Five, are you not?"_

Eric's eyes narrowed at the unknown voice.

"_It would be wise if you stayed out of Hellsing affairs. You and all your…vermin. If you do not cooperate, we shall retaliate. Do you understand, Mr. Northman?"_

* * *

Morissa looked up to Kalandryn as he spoke on the phone with the notorious Eric Northman. She grinned, her carmine lips parting just slightly.

* * *

Tala gave Integra a long, flat stare before she sighed and nodded. "Okay, but there's a problem with that."

Integra raised her eyebrow. "That would be…?"

"How in blue blazes am I supposed to get there? I can't simply appear in another room like I can here—the distance is far too great! And traveling through death, well, that's easily out of the question. It's too dangerous and it'll probably take years to do. So I ask you again, how am I to get there?"

"My, my. I thought you were an esteemed necromancer. Skilled in the art of voyaging great distances through the twisting rivers of death."

Tala didn't look amused. "Well if you want me there ASAP, then that mode of transportation is out of the question. So, again, how am I supposed to get to Louisiana?"

"You fly." The way Integra said those words, so simply and coolly, it left Tala stunned.

"Fl—Flying? Are you serious? That would take even longer!"

Tala couldn't hide her bewilderment towards Integra's suggestion. Planes were slow and cumbersome—not to mention a pain to handle.

"Do I look like a fucking pilot to you? Do you even realize how bad airport traffic is? –Not to mention airport security? It'll take forever!"

"And once again, you underestimate the power of Hellsing, Tala—or should I say Shadowed Wolf."

Tala visibly cringed at the name. She whirled around to give the all familiar voice a frigid look, if not a punch in the face. "Not you."

"Oh, I missed you too, my love," Alucard said mockingly as he stepped fully into the room. He gave Tala a half bow, grinning madly.

"Fuck off."

Integra stood from her desk and stepped around it. She snapped her fingers. The sound startled Tala. She didn't know if that was Alucard's newest cue to cease fighting or what. She was about to open her mouth when a red headed man sauntered in, snapping his heels to attention.

"'Alo! Ye mus' be de lass everyone 'as been talkin' aboot! Me name's Cowan. Laren Cowan, but ye c'n jus' call me Laren!" the red headed vampire greeted and bowed at the waist to Tala. He was grinning widely, a friendly expression that was plastered to his deathly pale face.

Tala forced a smile and nodded faintly, pretending she understood the words that flew out of the vampire's mouth. In truth, she couldn't understand a damned word that he said. His accent was unnaturally thick and he spoke so quickly that even Alucard seemed to have trouble with understanding him. The native shifter couldn't help but grin as the Vampire King's smirk faltered as he tried to grasp what was being said.

"Mr. Cowan—" Integra began.

"Laren, please. Jus' Laren. Miss always insists on callin' me by me las' name. Tis Laren."

"Laren," Integra amended, annoyance playing across her face. Unlike her companions, she had no difficulty understanding the Scottish vampire.

She risked a brief glance to Tala to take in her reaction. (And Tala was as lost as ever.)

"You will be escorting Miss Ohanzee and Alucard to Bon Temps, Louisiana in the United States. I want you there in under five hours, do you understand me?"

Laren's face brightened at the challenge. "Aye, aye, Miss!" Laren replied enthusiastically. His disregard for Integra's formal title struck a nerve in Alucard, and he only just managed to keep form lashing out.

"Ah'll get 'em dere in a blink o' de eye, Ah will! Jus' wait an' see!"

"I want you there in five hours," Integra stressed as she caught eyes with the excited vampire.

"Miss 'Ellsing, Ah c'n 'ave 'em dere in a wee bit o'er two hours, Ah can!"

Tala gave Alucard a worried glance. She would rather be damned to another five years being in the close company of the vampire than have the psychotic Scottish vampire fly them all the way to America. She highly doubted they'd make the time limit.

Alucard merely shrugged and followed after the frantically gesturing Laren.

"C'mon naow, ye slow pokes! Tim's a tickin'!"

Once more, Tala's gaze slid to Alucard. "Doesn't he mean 'time's wasting'?"

Alucard gave a rare chuckle. "I haven't a damned clue."

The two followed the rambling vampire as he lead them down various corridors until they finally reached Hellsing's newest edition—an underground hanger. Tala's jaw just about dropped as Laren rolled open the massive doors, the big, industrial lights flaring to life from where they were suspended from the high ceiling. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she walked through the massive area.

"You've missed a lot while you were away," Alucard said, breaking through her astonishment.

"Yeah…. No shit…."

"C'mon! No' too much far'der!" came Laren's cheery voice from a few paces away. It echoed several times before his voice became a low drone. Tala fought back a cringe.

"Is he ever serious?" she asked Alucard as she reluctantly followed afer him.

His low laugh joined the constant drone of Laren's voice. "Never."

"Surprised you haven't killed him yet."

True to Laren's words, their escort was indeed, no much farther. Tala was in utter awe as they were dwarfed by the massive, black aircraft that sat ready. Her jaw dropped as Laren grinned back to them like a proud new father. He patted the SR-71 Blackbird lovingly.

"You're drooling, Tala," Alucard commented and pushed her jaw closed with a gloved hand. "It's not polite of you to drool."

"But—how? I thought those were retired in 1990!" Tala exclaimed as she stumbled towards the plane. Her legs went weak as her chest vibrated due to the low, ironically soft drone of the engines.

"Nawh! Miss 'Ellsing pawned me darlin' aft'r Ah crashed me F-18 a few years ago."

Laren's last comment—though Tala could barely understand him—didn't settle right. "You…crashed an F-18?"

"Well, Ah wouldn' say 'crashed,' really. 'Owevah, time's a tickin' an Miss 'Ellsing wants ye in America A.S.A.P. C'mon, den! Ge' in! Time ta go!"

"I'm not getting in the plane with you."

"Come, come, now Tala. Surely he isn't _that _ bad," Alucard taunted as he outstretched a hand for his onetime lover.

"I hope you burn in the lowest pits of hell."

The vampire grinned widely. "I do believe that's my line, my sweet."

"Yeah? Well, now it's mine."

"We don' 'ave time fer ye lovebirdies! Let'sa'go!" Laren called out form the cockpit. His green eyes were narrowed just slightly as he waited for his two passengers to climb in as well. The hatch closed and the massive gates began to open to reveal an angled runway that lead up towards the enormous backyard of the Hellsing estate.

"Attention! Dis is yer Cap'n speakin'! Lock all seatbelts an' put on yer oxygen mask-t'ings. We shall be takin' off in jus' a few ticks. T'ank ye an' enjoy yer flight."

Tala rolled her eyes and gripped the harness tightly as she was buckled in the same seat as her former lover—even though there wasn't any love.

"We're all going to die."

"No, just you. We're already dead," Alucard replied as he snaked his arms around Tala's waist. She hardly heard Laren's countdown as her face flushed from the contact. With her dark, mahogany skin, the color to her cheeks was hardly noticeable. Before she knew it, she was sucked back against Alucard as the SR-71 Blackbird rocketed to the sky.

She swore loudly, spouting curses and swears in a multitude of combinations—some of which earning her an eyebrow raise from Alucard. Her shouts suddenly ceased as the plane continued to accelerate to its maximum speed. It broke the sound barrier with a thunderous cracking boom, rendering the shifter unconscious.

* * *

_***Valhalla Etymology;**_

_**From Old Norse Valh**__**ǫ**__**ll, from valr ("dead warriors"), and h**__**ǫ**__**ll ("hall")  
**_

_**I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and I have high hopes for chapters to come. I would like to thank Ra9wer, for the comment! I have not forgotten about my other story, but sadly I haven't had inspiration with it recently. It will be continued eventually.**_

_**I have a request! Get more people to read! I like comments! Even mean ones! (Crazy, right?) So comment please! Review, or whatever! Please share where you think the story is going to go—your reaction to pieces! Which of the characters from Hellsing or TrueBlood I need to work on in order to find their voice, or share which of my crazy made-up people you like, are intrigued with, completely utterly dislike (and please state a reason too) or what made you laugh! **_

_**I am here to entertain you with my zany mind of strange ideas. If there is something you would wish to see happen, let me know and I'll see if it can be worked in!**_

_**Oh, and another side note: NO Isabella is not a play on Bella from Twatlight. Isabella happens to be one of my favorite names and was inspired by the Abney Park song, "Sleep Isabella." It just came on my playlist while I was writing for her and the name just stuck.**_

_**Well, that's all I have to say for now! Please review! Make me feel like I entertained you, even in the slightest! 3 Thank you for reading! Also, one last thing, I hope that the page breaks-being the horizontal line, help in dividing up places and such. Sadly I am unable to figure out a more...pleasing look.  
**_

_**Peace,**_

_**Unearthed**_


	4. Slapping Paddies

_Chapter Three, Slapping Paddies_

"_Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me. If you kiss me, mister, take responsibility. I'm fragile, mister, just like any girl would be, and so misunderstood. So treat me delicately!" ~The Dresden Dolls from the song, __**Missed Me.  
**_

* * *

**In** the shadows of the alleyway, a lanky woman's silhouette sprinted around a corner before ducking down between a stuffed dumpster and a moldering sofa. She bit at her lips to muffle her gasps as she curled deeper into the shadows.

The sounds of shoes slapping against the asphalt echoed through the night only seconds after the woman had hid. Both men were wrapped up in long sleeved shirts, gloves and ski masks as if it wasn't humid enough outside to suffocate a seal.

The men passed her by, and would have kept running. This was not Olivia's lucky day, however. Today, the ancient street lamp only five feet away decided to live.

"No!" she protested, panicked, and scrambled onto the heap of trash to escape. Her fingers searched for purchase, but she wasn't strong enough. Her hands bled as the larger of the men grabbed her ankle and yanked her so hard that her palms scraped against broken bottles.

"Don't let 'er youch yer skin!" he snapped at his younger brother, as the shorter man fought to pin the flailing girl.

"Got the bitch!" the younger brother cried triumphantly, and he sadistically smacked the monster against the wall. He slammed her against the bricks a few more times, until the woman stopped fighting. He turned her around to face her death.

"Do you know who I am?" the tall man sneered down to her. "I am the man who kills beasts like you."

There was a metallic click. It seemed to echo like thunder amongst the chaos of their New Orleans backdrop.

Olivia kicked as hard as she could.

_**BANG!**_

And one last bloodcurdling scream as the younger brother died.

The silence lasted for only a blink of an eye (or had it been fifteen years?) before the older brother, Thomas, roared with fury and grief. His leather gloves tightened around Olivia's neck and he lifted her a good foot off the ground.

She couldn't make a sound, but her clothes rustled as she thrashed, and the leather squeaked as she dug her nails into the flesh of his hands.

**The **faint glow of a lit cigarette was the only thing that betrayed Javier de la Cruz's presence in the world. He took a deep drag, his sharp, hazel eyes watched the drunkards of the New Orleans traffic saunter by. He gave a gruff grunt as a small group knocked over a garbage can, laughing all the way—even if one of their companions had tipped into the rotten core.

He muttered something under his breath before flicking the half-smoked cigarette into the streets and turned away. The streetlamps cast haggard shadows down upon his chiseled face—making him seem like a swamp monster—if not a painfully handsome one.

His ears blocked out all of the drunken revelry of New Orleans, the numerous jazz bars and cat-calls left and right. It was all the same—no matter what day of the week. The only thing he truly did hear was the jingling of coins in his pocket and the roaring mayhem of his thoughts.

That was until he heard it. A noise unlike the others that were so typical of his hometown—a sound of pure terror. Like everything else, he shrugged it off, simply assuming a tourist had been scammed by a voodoo priestess.

An echo of a single gunshot made him stop dead in his tracks. He whirled around, his ears straining to hear another indicator of whatever shit was going down—or about to. The loud drone of the city nearly covered the fine thread that he was searching for.

But he found it.

Another scream, and this time Javier began to understand. His mouth twitched in annoyance as he struggled with taking the easiest route. To just turn away from it all.

_Was it all a trap again?_

He swore under his breath. He pulled at the black, silk shirt he wore in an attempt to pry it from his sweat covered back before he bolted. His patent leather shoes struck the ground with a sharp slap as he sped down the crowded streets and through dank alleyways.

"You fucker!" Javier snarled, his voice thick with a muddled accent. He rammed right into the lanky woman's attacker. Both men tumbled to the ground, and hard. He grimaced as the murky waters from the street soaked his crisp black pants and soiled his shirt and shoes. While he prized his attire, rescuing the damsel in distress was more important.

What struck him as odd was, he didn't truly understand why he was saving her. What was her life to him? Had things been different, she'd be the one spitting on him. So why…?

The glitter of the moon filtered through the Spanish moss covered trees and peaked around the buildings.

Javier flinched as the sudden brightness of the moon's light caught his eyes. He swore again and tried his hardest to look away from it, but he couldn't. It was too late.

The moon's beams burned into Javier's flesh. It spread such warmth that he felt as if he were on fire. He recoiled from the man as his body twisted this way and that. He contorted into such ways that it seemed his spine had been broken.

Just as quickly as the seizure came, it ended, but Javier no longer lay in anguish. A straggly, brown eyed wolf stood snarling in the pile of Javier's soiled clothing. Its fangs were bared and shone a sickly yellow in the dim light.

* * *

**Lafayette **slipped out from the kitchen, whispering something that sounded quite insulting under his breath, but he stopped suddenly as his gold painted eyes snapped up to Kalandryn as he blatantly threatened the Sheriff of Area Five over the phone. Sookie's phone.

"Where are your manners now?" he snapped and reluctantly stepped forward to help Sookie. Honestly, he had no idea what the fuck he could do against a guy who could melt bullets and his little spit fire.

Sam, too, inched around the back of the bar, though he had little chance of catching the two intruders off guard. He hung back and waited on edge to see what would pan out next.

"Back off, mortal child," Morissa sneered as she took a small, but firm step towards Lafayette. Her eyes narrowed as she fully intended to stay between Kalandryn and Lafayette, and Lafayette and Sookie.

Kalandryn cast a cool look over to Lafayette, and with his hand fully over the mouthpiece of the phone, he said, "My manners only go so far, and when it comes to matter that involve me and my own…. Well, needless to say, this happens. Now do be quiet. I am on the phone."

"_Hellsing affairs? Really? It seems to me that you are far out of your jurisdiction," _said Eric. His tone dropped down to a threatening note.

"_Why should I cooperate with an organization that has proven itself to be thoroughly incompetent? I won't tolerate idiots with guns murdering innocent citizens." _

He laughed as he removed his hand from the microphone. His voice was deep and oddly warm despite the chilling chortle. "Oh, Mr. Northman, do you honestly know so little?" Kalandryn asked. He could almost see the frown that crossed the Sheriff's face. "The Hellsing Organization's jurisdiction is everywhere. Surely even _you _would have known this? Mhmm…. Indeed."

By this time, Kalandryn was unable to hide his amusement. It shone clearly upon his face. The charming, gentlemanly composure had vanished completely as his features seemed to darken at his excitement.

"Mr. Northman, must I remind you that if you refuse to cooperate with us, we will be forced to destroy you and everyone that you have contacted? Please, for the sake of your lovely fledgling, do cooperate with us. We will be waiting." He snapped the phone shut, grinning widely.

"May I have my phone back now?" Sookie asked in an irritated voice as she opened her hand for her cell phone. The amused grin—no, smirk—that crossed Kalandryn's face made her furious. She shouted out in protest as she witnessed her phone become nothing more than frizzling metal and molten plastic. It dripped between Kalandryn's slim fingers and pooled onto the ground at her feet.

"My phone! You jerk!"

* * *

**Eric's **expression hardened instantly as he rose from his desk. Merlotte's. At least he knew where he was going. As the phone went dead, he snapped his phone shut and threw it down upon his desk where it shattered.

He stalked across his small, cramped office and grabbed Isabella by the arm before the vampire could slip free and run again.

The petite vampire struggled slightly and made a fuss, but she was quickly silenced as Pam spoke.

"Let me guess," said Pam dryly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "We're paying that little twit a visit, aren't we?"

**The **parking lot around Merlotte's was practically deserted by the time Eric's boots crunched across the gravel. That, alone, was enough proof that something was wrong. He shoved Isabella forward as she cringed and shied away from the familiar voices she could hear from inside the restaurant.

"Do you honestly expect me to reward your belligerence with cooperation?" Northman asked as he barged into the small bar and grill. The door hung on its hinges. It swayed and creaked from the force of Eric's entrance. In his grasp, Isabella writhed. He cast a dark look over both Morissa and her much taller companion, Kalandryn.

Pam had been surprisingly silent for the entire journey. She knew Eric was pissed, for good reason, and was not pleased with how everything was going. Also for good reason. Though she had only heard part of the phone conversation, from what she did hear, Eric had every right to be pissed off.

However, as Eric made his bold and brazen entrance, Pam showed none of the concern she felt. She remained perfectly masked in her usual cold, arrogant ways. Her arms were once more crossed over her chest as she stood at Eric's shoulder, if not a pace or two behind. From where she stood, she silently studied the two new faces and felt weary.

Kalandryn turned at the sound of the very forced entrance. He faced Eric and grinned, pearly white teeth gleaming. "Ah, we finally meet, Mr. Northman," he replied and spread his hands. "So lovely you could join us this evening."

His grin was far from the charming smile he donned when he first introduced himself. He knew very well that he was playing with fire.

He loved every second of it.

His grin, oh, his grin…. It said it all.

The excitement.

The danger.

The _thrill._

It was too perfect.

Though technically, Morissa was the senior officer, she kept silent and allowed Kalandryn to enjoy himself. It had been a long time since she saw him this entertained. Her cool, teal eyes remained on the tall, blonde vampire, able to sense he wasn't a force to fool around with. Even so, she allowed a very small smirk to cross her face. If the time called for it, she could dispose of him easily.

"Eric! Thank God you finally came! They attacked me!" Sookie blurted and completely ignored the brewing tension between the agents of Hellsing and the Sheriff.

"I am getting tired of hearing your voice, girlie," Morissa snapped as she cast a sharp glance towards the waitress. She was suddenly before the woman, small body tensed as she raised a hand to strike the blonde. "Hush up and be a good girl!"

"Don't you dare!" Bill snarled as he immediately stepped between Morissa and Sookie.

"Yes, it _is_ a pleasure," Eric spoke without enthusiasm, but if he was being sarcastic, it was subtle. For now.

"You have yet to introduce yourselves, but it is Kalandryn, right? And…Morissa," he paused for just a moment as his gaze flicked over to the woman. Distaste curled at his lips at her mixed blood, but his expression wasn't quite as cold, just yet. She, at least, hadn't proven to be as utterly infuriating as her companion…yet.

However, any potential approval dropped from Eric's face as he stepped further into the restaurant.

As Eric moved deeper into Merlotte's, Isabella tugged her arm free and ducked back into the shadows. It certainly wouldn't help much, considering who all she was hiding from, but she was going to avoid talking to the duo for as long as possible.

Kalandryn's gaze shifted towards the cowering vampire, before looking over Pam thoroughly. "Indeed, I am," he replied as he lazily returned his attention back to Eric. "And yes, that is infact Morissa Dracul. I see you have brought your fledgling along. How…quaint…of you."

He spared a brief glance towards Morissa, who had to look _up_ to the vampire that moved to protect that annoying human waitress.

"Hmm…. I see you've brought an old friend." He nodded towards Isabella, finally acknowledging her presence. "The reason?"

Morissa's lips had pulled back to bare her teeth for a moment in a silent snarl. "Oh, but I do dare," she seethed to Bill. She let her hand drop and straightened herself as she instantly regained the cold, beautiful composure she had all afternoon and through much of the evening.

"Do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut, Cookie." A bemused expression pulled at the corner of her carmine lips. "Lest I close it for good." Her expression lingered for a moment longer before it fell away. She gracefully returned to Kalandryn's side to view their new guests better. She regarded them coolly, as if their very presences were beneath her.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Eric dismissed the issue flippantly. He circled closer to Hellsing's pets as he sized them up.

"I do hope you realize you are truly missing your mark with this petty little vendetta. Vampires are not responsible. Vampires _could not _be responsible."

Morissa barked out a laugh, a sound so unbecoming of a woman of her stature. "A vendetta, you say? Mr. Northman, who ever said _anything _about a vendetta?" She grinned and lithely began to circle them as well. She wasn't going to allow the Sheriff of Area Five to take the offensive.

Not without a fight, that is.

"You see, Mr. Northman, we are here on business. You seem like a business man yourself, so I do believe you would understand when I say that we are only doing our job." Her voice was sickly sweet as if she were talking to a mere child. All that was lacking was her height so she might look down upon Eric Northman as if he were a mere child.

"Oh, so your _job _is to run around killing off innocents and accusing vampires for everything?" Pam asked as she instinctively rose to Eric's defense. She dared to raise an eyebrow.

"I was not speaking to you, Barbie!" Dracul snapped as she rounded on the tall, stunning blonde. She looked up to lock eyes with her, a look of disgust to her face at the woman's excessive pearlescent pink lipstick, eye shadow and pink satin blouse.

"Morissa." Kalandryn spoke the warning slowly as he watched the dhampir.

"Why are you so offended, Ms. Dracul? Does the truth hurt?" Eric taunted with a cold smirk as he casually leaned back against a table, though his posture remained ready for a fight. "The Hellsing Organization is composted of traitorous outcasts following the binding of a neurotic, prejudiced little bint. Since that is the case, I am certain I do not have any business with you."

The dhampir's patience was simmering dangerously close to the boiling point for quite some time, and with Eric's taunting, it had only fueled the fire. She whirled around faster than anyone in that high of platform shoe should ever be able without breaking something.

"What…did you just say?" she asked in a horridly cold voice. Her calm exterior began to fall apart as her anger began to win through.

A less than admirable trait, courtesy of her mother's side of the family.

"I believe he called your human a bint," Pam replied in a bored tone.

The woman's words went unheard as Morissa took a bold step towards Eric. "Say that to me one. More. Time," the dhampir challenged.

"Which part didn't you hear, you sycophantic mongrel?" he asked with a bland smile. "The part where I called you the pet of a paranoid wench?" His innocent smile turned wicked as he pushed himself up from the table to look down upon the half-vampire.

Isabella hissed in an unnecessary breath, which she released in a nervous huff. It was nearly laughter, but her expression was far too grim to be amusement. This was going to end with a bang, and she wasn't quite certain she was lucky or unlucky to have front row seats.

"You insignificant speck!" Morissa hissed breathlessly. Her fists clenched tightly. Had she kept her soul, Eric's words would have reduced her to tears. It was a bonus for her considering she had long ago lost her humanity and fully embraced the darkness she had inherited from her father. Her mother was weak and mortal in her eyes. By him pointing out her weakness only reminded her how much she despised the woman that birthed her.

That cursed her.

Her muscles tensed as she wound up to deliver a punishing blow to the gut—which was as high as she could reach. Give or take a few inches.

Kalandryn closed his eyes as he backed up to the stone wall and leaned against it. He stood near Sookie and Bill.

Daring to interfere with an enraged Dracul was the last thing on his bucket list.

"Fantastic…" he breathed.

His comment earned him quizzical looks from the blonde waitress and the southern vampire.

Morissa's lips curled back once more as she snarled and delivered her punch.

Eric caught her by the wrist and yanked her forward, catching her off balance. In a smooth, effortless motion, the vampire had her arm twisted behind her and had her pinned against the table behind him. His free hand found the back of her head and gripped her cool, raven dark hair. He shoved her face first into a plate of mashed potatoes.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?" he mocked.

Seeing as Eric had successfully handled the irate dhampir, Bill took the advantage to pull Sookie back to safety. He knew he would never keep his headstrong lover out of the ball, but he didn't have to allow her to endanger herself needlessly.

For once, Sookie didn't struggle. She didn't like Eric—but she didn't hate him either. She certainly didn't like the woman, Morissa. She was a completely different type of vampire and she was a bit frightening as well.

She glared at Kalandryn as he shuffled closer to them. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be _helping _your partner?"

Kalandryn gave an exasperated sigh. "Staying out of her way—she's like a walking wrecking ball. I suggest we move farther back. She's not going to stop."

Isabella, following Kalandryn's lead, slipped from her hiding spot to lead Sam and Lafayette back, but neither really needed the advice. It was clear that now was the time to retreat.

* * *

**She **snarled and forced herself to bite back a gasp of pain. Morissa cast Eric a frigid, dark look over her shoulder as mashed potatoes dripped off her face. She suddenly vaporized into mist and slid from his grasp, leaving his hand coated in pureed potatoes.

She took shape again behind him and even before she was fully solid again, her gun was poised and ready, aimed directly at the back of his head.

"My feelings? Oh, no…. But my dear mother is going to be heartbroken!" she replied in the same tone as he.

She had recovered well enough from the insult and fell into the comforting embrace of the one true thing she could count on to get her through anything and everything; her hatred.

The dhampir pulled the hammer back with her black-gloved thumb. A wicked smirk split her face from ear to ear. Whatever beauty she had all but vanished as soon as the insane, homicidal grin broke her face.

"Goodbye, Mr. Northman. It is a shame that our fun must end here."

As soon as the woman's finger tensed around the trigger, Eric put all his considerable speed to good use and dropped out of the way as the gunshot rang true and clear. Unlike the majority of vampires, he could survive the tough of silver, but certainly not in his brain.

His feet dug into the ground and propelled him forward.

"Mommy isn't here, Morissa. What are you _really _fighting?" His hand shot out and encircled the barrel of the gun, forcing it up and away from his being.

"Oh no! She isn't?" she replied in fake horror. She gave a short, delightful laugh. "I would have killed her if she was!" Morissa exclaimed with a shockingly calm and serious voice. "As to answer your second question…." The dhampir trailed off as she smiled sweetly and innocently, batting her eyelashes like a bashful girl with a crush.

"Eric! Stop fucking around and just kill her!" Pam shouted, unable to keep her silence anymore. Her heart was in her throat. She was struggling with reading the constant ebb and flow of the dhampir's emotions. She began to understand why Hellsing had such a reputation. Their vampire pets were fucking insane as all shit.

Morissa gave a soft giggle and quirked an eyebrow. She suddenly pulled out a second weapon, and without warning, fired it.

* * *

**As **soon as the SR-71 landed—and Tala roused from her unconscious state, she was running. It was easy for her to sense the disturbance close by and could only assume that something bad was already happening.

The world spun in a dazzling display of swirling lights and colors. She instantly regretted hitting the ground running. She should have followed Laren's close instructions about taking it easy. She had been unconscious since they left Hellsing—and hardly breathing at that too. It didn't matter now, though. She had to reach her destination before the earlier recruits burned Bon Temps to the ground.

A gunshot sent her skittering to a halt as she dropped to the ground, unsure which direction it came from. The dense trees in the area dispersed the sound just enough where the origin was difficult to trace. (Though she would argue that her fall was intentional, however the truth behind it was she actually stumbled over her own feet.)

She could make out a small building ahead of her, but the sign was hidden by the low tree branches. The sound of a struggle echoed from inside and the stench of the dead was everywhere. Despite her protesting bad leg, Tala hoisted herself up and began to sprint towards it.

From somewhere behind her, she could make out the low, rumbling laughter of Alucard. He was, no doubt, enjoying this.

* * *

"**Eric!"** shouted Pam as the gunshot sounded.

Eric, fortunately, hadn't been fooled for a second by the little innocent act Morissa put on. However, he was less than fortunate enough to guess she wasn't trying to shoot him in the head again. The bullet that was intended for his shoulder crashed through his clavicle instead and just barely missed his heart.

The bitch's aim was purposely off. She didn't want him dead. Yet.

He was proving to be too much fun to knock off.

The Sheriff tumbled backwards and hit the ground hard. Not a single pained sound escaped him. Instead, a bitter chuckle passed his lips. Agony shot through Eric's body as he kicked out to knock the dhampir off her feet.

Morissa laughed cruelly as she easily jumped over Eric's pathetic attack. She took her dear, sweet time in rounding on him. She looked down upon him, and kept just a little out of his reach. She clicked her tongue in dismay.

"I believe playtime is up, Mr. Northman. Just look at you, bleeding all over the floor. It is funny how things work out, is it not?" She smiled sweetly and risked a step forward. She blew the dark gray tendrils of smoke from the barrel and idly tapped it against her forehead in thought. The heated metal hardly fazed her.

"What am I to do with you? I do wish this would have been prolonged, however, you read into the situation too much." She pressed her deadly platform shoe against his chest and pinned him.

Isabella was no fool. At the sound of hurried footsteps, she tore her gaze away from the fallen sheriff. A curse escaped her as she decided these people were clearly Hellsing as well. They were gaining on the restaurant and she braced herself for impact.  
.

**Morissa **gasped suddenly and looked visibly shaken as a bullet sped past her head and lodged itself into the far wall. She hadn't even heard the gun go off. Her attention was immediately turned towards the door.

Her eyes narrowed.

Tala stood in the doorway, heaving great breaths of air despite the restriction of her skin tight tank. Her gun never faltered.

"Back away from him now, Morissa," she said coolly, her voice level and even. Her brown eyes followed every tiny movement the dhampir made. Tala shifted her weight to the other, favoring her reconstructed leg.

"By order of Sir Integra Wingates Fairbrook Hellsing, you will stand down!"

A horrid sneer crossed the young woman's porcelain face as she reluctantly removed her foot from Eric Northman's chest. One weapon was aimed at the Sheriff's head, while the other rose to be on par with Tala's heart.

"Oh, what are you going to do to me?"

Silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever. After a few seconds, the only noise that could be heard was the faint stretching squeak of fabric rubbing against an obtrusion.

Tala suppressed a grimace as the tight fitting jeans she wore rubbed painfully against the protruding hardware in her leg.

Before Tala could pull the trigger, Morissa shot first. The bullet sped through the air and hit the woman square in the chest, piercing her heart.

"I told you I'd kill you."

Pam was too stunned to move. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't had time to react. One moment Eric had the upper hand, the next he was shot. Before she could do anything, a new woman entered and was killed. Just like that.

Before Morissa could deal any more damage to her friend and companion, Pam bolted into action. She charged the dhampir before she gasped as a silver bullet tore through her shoulder. The force of the impact caused her to spin. She hit the ground not too far from her maker.

"Do not fuck with me," Morissa said bitterly as she stepped over to Tala. "May you eternally rot in Hell, you witch!"

Her gun was once more aimed at Tala, only this time her head. Her finger tightened about the trigger, but before she could pull it, the petite dhampir was knocked backwards by a powerful kick to the face.

Tala staggered to her feet with a hand pressed against the gaping wound in her chest. Between her fingers, her scarred heart continued to pump strongly. Her flesh knitted itself back together relatively quickly and ceased the gush of blood.

"I've had my fair share of rotting," Tala countered and wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. She remained hunched over as she struggled to breathe, hand still clenched to her chest. It took her a moment or two more before she rose to her full height.

Morissa spat out a tooth that skittered away from her and was lost under a table. "Why can you not just stay dead?" she nearly shouted and raised the gun again.

"Stand down, daughter," Tala ordered. Her voice left no room for argument. "Your orders were to secure the area with Kalandryn and ensure that it was safe enough for a proper meeting with the Sheriff of Area Five. Seeing that you have disobeyed your orders given to you by Sir Integra Wingates Fairbrook Hellsing, I relieve you of your duties. You will stand _down!"_ the hunter shouted.

As her daughter cringed and grudgingly stood down, Tala turned to Eric and looked down to him and Pam. "Mr. Northman, I presume. Sir Hellsing has asked me to meet with you here. I will be acting here in her place."  
.

"**Well, **well. You haven't lost it after all."

Tala closed her eyes and silently counted to five before she turned to face her fellow hunter and ex-lover. "I have the situation under control."

"I know…. I just wanted to see if you were still as good as you were before you left, Shadowed Wolf."

Tala shuddered at the name. "I do not go by that anymore, Alucard, and you damned well know it."

She gave her shoulder a sudden, agitated roll in the socket before she turned away and knelt down next to the Sheriff.

"Stay still," she instructed. "I won't bother apologizing, considering I have the feeling it wouldn't be accepted." Without warning, she dug her fingers into the bullet wound and withdrew the silver bullet. She examined it for a moment before she flicked it off to the side and shot Pam a cool, warning look.

Pam froze.

She had been moving to defend her maker.

"The bullet passed through you, you'll be fine."

It took all of Pam's good graces to keep from making a sharp reply, but now wasn't the time for it. She settled herself next to Eric, unsure as to what to do. No one else seemed to question the fact that the native woman was shot in the heart and was still living. Not to mention she stood up right after. Pam thought she had smelt something odd about her, but it was muddled by an unpleasant odor. It burned her nose.

She said nothing about it. No one else seemed to notice or care too much.

It took only a few seconds for Eric's flesh to heal after the silver was removed. Without a word, he rose to his feet with the poise of a king, as if he wasn't covered in blood and dripping with humiliation. His gaze remained transfixed on Tala, and looked as if he were seeing ghosts. The expression faded in an instant.

"_I never thought you would be working for the wrong side, puppy."_

Tala froze, having stopped mid-step towards the exit. She pivoted around and stared at Eric, her gaze flat and unreadable. Behind her carefully placed mask, confusion flickered within the depths of her rich, brown eyes.

"_I am sorry, but I do not know what you are talking about,"_ Tala replied. Her response was mostly fluent, but it was clear she hardly used, or remembered, Old Norse.

Eric almost scowled when it was clear that Tala had no idea who he was, but he kept his expression in check this time.

"Kal! Tell me what happened," she demanded, expertly changing the subject all together. She didn't want to dwell into the reasons behind the strange feelings she got from the man. Her mind was already racing, but she was afraid to pay attention to those thoughts—not when Alucard was hawking over her like a vulture.

Pam narrowed her eyes as Kalandryn snapped to attention as the native woman strode forward. She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her blouse. She cast a dark, questioning look towards Eric. She had not missed the expression on his face.

"There isn't much he needs to explain to you, honestly. Hellsing has given us the quality of work I would expect from such a respectable organization. Namely, terrorizing the innocent populace," Eric answered before Kalandryn could speak. A touch of his usual grim humor had finally returned to his words.

"Human and vampire alike."

Morissa glared coldly towards Eric as he bashed Hellsing's name yet again. She rose from where she had taken a seat and stalked towards him.

"How dare you, you ignorant prick!" she snarled.

"Morissa!" Tala countered and shot her unruly daughter a fierce glance. She took a half step to stand between her and the Sheriff. Why she felt the need to do so, she hadn't a clue.

However, the dhampir stood down, but the tension was still ever present.

"I can assure you, Mr. Northman, that Hellsing was not always this way," Tala finally said. Her voice was tight with her effort to keep from lashing out at her daughter. She was uneasy, and she was sure it was evident throughout Merlotte's. If Morissa truly wanted, the half-vampire could easily tear her mother apart. And right then, it seemed like Morissa would do so.

Alucard let out a low sigh. It was quite clear he was bored with how things resolved. "She is right," he agreed and glanced to Eric. "Things have never been so out of hand." He turned his gaze to his daughter. "I expected better."

Pam looked over to the others and couldn't help but allow a smirk to pull at her pearlescent pink lips. "Why don't you put your loose cannon away? If you claim that your little tea party is better than this, then show it."

Her nose crinkled in distaste as the dhampir turned her attention to her. "What? Are you going to start crying now?"

Morissa's hands balled into tight fists as she took a step towards Pam and opened her mouth to say something, but was instantly stopped as the door was not only kicked in, but completely off the remaining hinges too.

"'Eeeeey! Looks like de party 'as starting wit'out me!" Laren chirped in a cheery tone. This thumbs were hooked on the straps of his parachute. "'Alo, alo! Nice ta meet ye'all. Me name's Cowan. Laren Cowan."

Pam raised an eyebrow as the newest vampire continued to rattle off with such a thick Scottish accent that she—like every other Hellsing member—was totally lost. She hadn't even noticed that Sookie was back amongst them, looking as lost as the rest of them.

"Get away from me, you twat," Pam sneered as Laren stood in front of her, babbling nonstop. The only things Pam caught were "pretty", "flower" and "pink."

Tala barely managed to tear her attention away from the rambling Scottish vampire long enough to think back on Eric's statement and her poor reply.

"Things are different in England than here, surely you must understand. I apologize on behalf of Hellsing for the…problems that arose."

"Behalf of Hellsing? Ha! You walked out years ago! How dare you consider yourself part of Hellsing anymore!" Morissa snapped.

At Morissa's outrage, Eric calmly arched a brow in challenge. "Prove me wrong," he dared her before turning around to watch the newcomer pester Pam.

"I want Hellsing to withdraw. These incidents are not caused by vampires. Unless you can tell me what did this, you're useless here."

Dismissively, he gestured to Isabella, who, from her hiding spot, shot him a sullen glare. She left her small sanctuary and offered Tala the manila folder that was full of crime scene photographs that Eric _technically _shouldn't have.

"The victims become human Jell-O Jigglers," Isabella summarized with a wry twist of her lips. "At first, anyway. They melt into rice pudding after a couple of hours."

Tala glanced over to Eric as his challenge quieted her daughter. A flicker of amusement danced across her ashen face. She took the folder from the petite vampire and briefly flipped through the photos and report summaries. A pained breath escaped her as she tried to ease her weight to her stronger leg. It was a futile effort and was forced to take a seat.

"They're right," she said mused to Alucard, Kalandryn and Morissa. "These don't look like any vampire attack's I've ever seen. However, there is still a possibility. There are strange things happening in Europe and we have seen some bizarre things."

Tala continued to flip through more of the pictures and arched a dark eyebrow. Something spread across her face—and it wasn't clear if it was disgust or pain.

* * *

**The** case was supposed to be ridiculously simple. Really, the silly hotel wanted publicity. They claimed to be haunted, and Hanna was hired to take pictures of the ghosts. Of course, in his excitement, he maybe might have accidentally forgotten to mention that it was _ghosts_ he was looking for.

After all, Conrad and Gandalf wouldn't have agreed to come along if he had.

And really, he didn't honestly expect that the hotel _really _ had ghosts.

And he was right, they didn't. The hotel had…fairies.

It was terrible. By the time the fires were put out, and the hallucinations stopped, the trio was feeling thoroughly exhausted, but grimly victorious. Hanna, with his new 'wealth,' offered to buy dinner, before realizing that he was the only one who could eat, but Jackson insisted they stop to feed the redhead, regardless.

And, with his usual bad luck, Hanna chose the wrong restaurant that night. As soon as Conrad parked, the investigator launched himself from the car. He was still thrilled by the recent 'victory' and the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet.  
.

"**Sir **Integra Hellsing sent me here to clarify our mission here in the US. Unfortunately, we are unable to withdraw. We are here to observe and track down whatever it is that we are dealing with. However, those orders were not given to our front lines me—" She cut off at the shout outside.

"Hanna! Stop! Something's wrong!" Conrad called out as soon as he stepped from the car, but he wasn't in time to stop Hanna from flinging open the front door to Merlotte's and charging straight into Alucard's back.

Ricardo, of course, would follow his accident-prone friend to the end of the world. He was hurrying after Hanna in an instant, and Conrad came next, though he looked one part exasperated and one part terrified.

Tala looked perplexed as a rambunctious red head burst through the already broken doors and slammed into her former lover. She just stood and blinked. It was extremely difficult to keep herself from bursting out in laughter.

Despite Tala's amusement, Alucard was far from being jovial about it. He pivoted around slowly, dangerously, and faced the boy. He towered over the spunky red head.

"Are you lost, human?" he asked in a low, sultry and hazardous voice. A slow grin spread across his insanely handsome features.

* * *

_**Hello all! Poof! A surprise cameo of "Hanna Is Not a Boy's Name!" It's a wonderful little webcomic by the very talented Tessa Stone. However, she has not updated in a very, very long time. However, it amused me with the sudden thought of throwing Hanna in the picture, if not for a short while. **_

_**Hey, I got to find my amusement somehow, right? **_

_**I never said it wasn't going to get crazy!**_

_**Updates might be a little slow in the upcoming weeks. I attend the Renaissance Faire regularly and there is much happening in the real world. Doing some major construction and trying to keep from going insane! I will try my best to crank out chapters when I have time. A little review never hurts as a friendly reminder! ;) **_

_**I encourage you to review! I love reviews! Though all the recent alert-list adds are also very welcome too! But please leave a comment! I somehow impressed you with my little story, so tell me about it! **_

_**Love to all,**_

_**Unearthed**_


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